


that which is mine to give

by valety



Series: that we two might be one [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Other, POV Second Person, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6388939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valety/pseuds/valety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As part of a peace treaty between humans and monsters, a marriage between the children of two noble families is arranged. In the weeks leading up to the wedding, Prince Asriel gets to know his betrothed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that which is mine to give

**Author's Note:**

> don’t worry too much about the setting, I just wanted an excuse to write an arranged marriage au (don't judge me)
> 
> picture something vaguely medieval/fantastic/fairytale-ish where the monsters were never sealed away but still live separately from humans and everyone talks all stiffly unless it’s funnier for them not to
> 
> if there are any inconsistencies or plot holes, just pretend that it's an aspect of the universe this takes place in and not a side effect of my writing inability
> 
> warnings for discussion of consent issues related to arranged marriages, past abuse/ableism/neglect, discussion of suicide, and a brief, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it reference to misgendering 
> 
> title comes from a [traditional celtic wedding vow](https://www.documentsanddesigns.com/verse/Celtic_marriage_wedding_vows.htm#t1)

The day the human is supposed to arrive, you make sure to be as far away from the palace as possible. You know that it's unseemly for the crown prince to be such a coward, and you'll almost certainly be scolded for it later, but the thought of being present for the formal introductions makes you feel as though your lungs are full of water.

You've known for as long as you can remember that this day was coming. If the stories you've been told are accurate, then it was actually your birth that jump-started the peace process in the first place. Something about you being a symbol of the future, and wanting that future to be a peaceful one for humans and monsters alike. You don't really know. You don't like thinking about it too much.

You know that both of your parents fought in the last great battle personally. It was the battle in which the seven human mages almost succeeded in sealing monsters underground forever. The efforts of the mages failed through chance alone and the resulting truce was an uneasy one. Neither side had come to any sort of understanding, even though they _had_ eventually come to tolerate each other. To this day, humans and monsters alike remain ready for war at the slightest provocation, and though you yourself had never seen unrest, the horrors of the first war remain in living memory.

You know that monsterkind cannot survive another conflict. Judging from the stories you’ve been told, they'd barely survived the last one. And even if the humans never take up arms again, the way you live right now is so _secluded_ _—_ no trading, no cooperation, no help during those long, difficult winters where food is scarce and magic weak. Living in fear and isolation is no way to live.

You know perfectly well what your task must be. As the prince of this kingdom's future, it's your duty to ensure peace at any cost.

But that doesn't mean you have to like it.

You had thought that you'd be ready by now. You've had your entire life to prepare, after all. You've known since you were old enough to understand what _prince_ meant that you'd someday be expected to marry a human. A show of good faith, they called it. A living symbol of the alliance.

Still, this day had always seemed so far away. You'd always thought that you'd have time to get used to the idea.

Apparently not.

Today is the day the human delegation will arrive, and though you’re meant to be there, waiting with your parents, you just... _can’t._ You know nothing about them, just that they're apparently the child of a noble family. You can't even imagine what they’ll look like. You've never seen a human before, only read about them in your studies. You can’t help picturing something horrific, like a demon cloaked in shadows, enormous teeth dripping in ichor, waiting to tear you apart with a single unkind thought and well-placed blow.

You shudder. Your mother and father have always taken great care to reassure you that not _all_ humans are dust-hungry savages, that the warriors you’ve read about cannot _possibly_ make up the _entire_ human population, that there are sure to be plenty of humans out there who are perfectly nice and that they wouldn’t make you marry one who wasn’t, treaty or no treaty, and you mostly believe them. But some tiny part of you can’t help wondering, _what if?_

Still, even if the human sent to marry you turns out to be as horrifying as you fear, you’ll find a way to cope. It’s your duty to secure peace, after all, and this treaty, this _marriage,_ is the only way of doing so that won’t prolong the tension any further.

You’ve accepted that. You _have!_

You just want a few more hours to yourself, first.

Your favourite place to go when you need solitude is a meadow you found once when you were very small, a valley full of silence and wildflowers. It’s perfect for when you need to be alone, as other monsters rarely dare to approach it, despite how beautiful it is. The entire area is dangerously close to human territory, after all.

You can’t say you don’t understand their fears, but you’re fairly certain that you can defend yourself should you need arise. As anxious about humans as you can be, you’re not about to let your fear of them keep you from enjoying such a peaceful spot.

When you reach the meadow, you release a breath you hadn’t even known that you were holding. The anxious knot in your stomach relaxes just a tad as you wander out into the sea of flowers, stopping once to pick one. It’s one of your favourites, one of the golden ones that make the tea your father likes, and you breathe deeply of its honey-sweet scent, trying to relax.

Married. You’re getting _married._ You can delay it all you want by hiding outside like the little boy you _aren’t_ , but when you finally return, you’ll have to meet the human, and then you won’t be able to ignore it anymore.

You tear a petal from the flower. _Loves me,_ you think almost hysterically. You rip a second. _Loves me not._

Your parents had married for love. They were still _in_ love, actually, disgustingly so, to the extent that it almost embarrassed you while simultaneously making you incredibly envious. You will never have the luxury of romance. You might come to tolerate the human, but even if they aren’t dust-hungry, that’s no guarantee that you will ever like them. They might be awful. They might be _boring._ Or—

And that is when you catch sight of them.

There, kneeling among the flowers, almost like a flower themself, is the strangest monster you have ever seen.

They rise to their feet, and even from a distance, you can see how slight they are: small and thin and covered in pink skin, with straight, red-brown fur covering the crown of their head and nothing else. They're wearing what appears to have once been a dark green dress, but the skirt has been torn above the knees, leaving it to resemble a tunic more than a dress.

They don't look at you, apparently too busy tying a strip of fabric around their wrist to notice your presence, and before you can stop yourself, you’re moving forward, calling out, "Are you alright?"

Their head snaps upright. Suddenly they're glaring at you, and their eyes are _beautiful,_ sharp and intelligent and the colour of fire and rubies and…and for moment, you forget yourself. The flower slips from your hands. You can only stare.

"I'm fine," the stranger says, moving their hand behind their back.

"Are you sure?" you ask. “I...I saw you bandaging yourself. Are you injured?”

"I'm _fine,_ " they repeat. "Now please leave me alone. I have somewhere I need to be.”

You swallow, dropping your gaze. Judging from how cold their expression is, they won't let you offer your assistance willingly. But what kind of prince would you be if you abandoned one of your subjects when they were standing injured right in front of you?

"I can escort you wherever you need to go," you say. You’ll have to go back sooner or later; if you can help somebody on the way, then you won’t feel as guilty about having run off.

Their brow furrows as if in contemplation. For a moment, you expect them to say no, and decide that if they do, you'll still go on your way. But then, much to your surprise, their face splits into a too-wide smile.

"I accept," they say. "Having a monster escort will undoubtedly be more convenient than wandering the mountains alone. Can you take me to the palace in the capital?”

You almost snort, returning their smile despite yourself. "Of course!"

The stranger crosses their arms, staring at you expectantly. You stare back, confused, before saying, "Oh!" and moving to lead the way back home.

The stranger follows you all the way back to City. You try to slow down more than once so that you can fall into step with them, maybe get a conversation going to take your mind off things, but they adamantly stay behind you, wearing the unfriendliest expression that you’ve ever seen. You decide they probably don't want to talk, but you still can't help occasionally sneaking glances back at them. Even though they scowl at you every time you do, you can't help but want to see those eyes again.

When the path starts to become steep, you remember their bandaged wrist and turn around once more to watch them. You might be imagining it, but they seem to be limping, their breathing a little heavier than before, and so you say, “Your leg is injured, isn’t it? Are you going to be okay here?”

“I’ll manage,” they reply through gritted teeth.

“I can carry you,” you offer. They seem light, and you’re fairly strong, as all boss monsters are. It should be no trouble for you to have them on your back.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” they say. Their already-pink cheeks turn even pinker. “I can walk.”

So they say, but they gradually become slower and slower as you ascend, wheezing more and more, until finally you stop and go to them. You think it’s probably more common to assist an injured person by offering a shoulder for them to lean on, but you’re so much taller than they are that to do so would just place an even greater burden on them. Instead you kneel, and though they heave a frustrated-sounding sigh, they obediently climb onto your back and hook their arms around your neck.

They’re just as light as you’re expecting. Lighter, even. And they’re warm, too—so warm that it almost makes you feel a little warm yourself, despite how tightly they cling to you.

When you finally reach the entrance of City, they smack your shoulder, and you kneel once more so that they can slide off. They’re still limping slightly, but they show no sign of stopping or slowing down, and you decide it’s probably okay to leave them be for now. Besides, they’re going to the palace: maybe you can have your mother see to their injuries.

Your mother, you think. The knot in your stomach once again begins to twist and clench.

You feel more and more sick with every step that takes you closer to the palace. Even though the stranger had asked you to take them there, the thought of actually returning makes you want to throw up.

You’re a coward, you tell yourself. A coward. A complete and utter failure as a prince. You can’t even muster up the courage to see through this simple obligation if it means confronting what you’ve been hiding from all day.

You wind up stopping in the middle of the square.

"What’s wrong?" the stranger asks.

"There's the palace," you say feebly, pointing to the white stone towers in the distance. From the square, they almost seem to grow straight out of the rocks.

"Are you not taking me the whole way?" the stranger asks, raising their eyebrows. Despite the disdain in their voice, they're grinning. "Are you afraid? What’s there to be afraid of? I’d heard that _all_ monsters are welcome in the palace, unless they're criminals. Are you secretly a thief or murderer?”

"No!" you say. “Of course not!”

They raise their hand to their mouth as if to hide their snicker, and you bristle, hands clenching into fists. How dare they speak to you that way after you helped them?

"Are you taking me to the entrance or not?" the stranger demands. But before you can reply, they’re pushing past you, striding confidently through the square and towards the palace. The crowd seems to part for them instinctively, and for a moment, you can only stand there, watching as they leave.

Their back is a proud one. There’s defiance in their stance, although what exactly they're defying, you can't say. And despite yourself, despite your fear of going home, as they begin to vanish in the crowd, you find yourself chasing after them.

"Oh, so you're not a total coward after all," they say when you catch up to them, but there's something light and teasing in their voice that causes your anger to melt away.

"You shouldn't speak like that to me," you say as you begin to ascend the steps. You’re not angry anymore, but you’re still trying to be stern; forceful, the way a future king should be.

"Did I hurt your feelings?"

"No, but—"

"Your Highness!"

You lift your head. One of the royal guards stationed outside the entrance is waving to you. Smiling nervously, you raise your hand and offer a slight wave in return, stopping when you reach him.

“Dude, everyone’s been, like, looking for you,” the guard says. Although you can’t see his face through his helmet, you imagine him raising his eyebrows meaningfully. “Where have you been, man?”

The second guard is silent, like always.

“Um. Nowhere,” you reply. “It doesn’t matter. I’m back now.”

“Excuse me,” the stranger says, grabbing your arm as they beam at the royal guards. “I must discuss something with His Highness.”

Before you can ask them what they’re talking about, they’re dragging you back down the steps. Behind you, you can hear the first royal guard asking his partner, “Dude, who was that…?”

The stranger drags you back into the crowded market, finally stopping in a relatively quiet place behind a stall. It’s only then that they release you, immediately crossing their arms and giving you the biggest smile that you’ve seen from them so far.

“They called you _Your Highness,_ ” they say, voice flat despite their expression. “I take that to mean you’re the prince?”

“Uh, yes?” you say. Your voice sounds hesitant, even to your own ears, as though you yourself don’t quite know. You mentally chastise yourself. “I mean, yes! Yes, I’m the prince.”

Then, a little more awkwardly: “Did...did you not know?”

 _“How could I possibly know?!_ ” the stranger hisses, lunging forward and grabbing a fistful of your shirt. You flinch and they immediately let go. Their hands ball into fists, the way yours do when you’re trying not to want to punch things, and you pray that they don’t want to punch you.

“Well,” you say, bewildered. “I’m a boss monster, right? Plus, I’m wearing the Delta Rune. And...doesn’t _everybody_ know?”

Wasn’t that why they’d asked you to take them to the palace?

“All _monsters_ know, maybe!” the stranger cries, voice shrill, and their smile is very, very wide now. They sound almost on the verge of laughter, which strikes you as the most unsettling thing of all. “Do I _look_ like a monster?”

“...yes?” you venture.

Apparently that’s the wrong answer, because they burst out laughing, burying their face in their hands.

And that is when it finally clicks.

A monster you have never seen before who is now claiming to not be a monster. A not-monster who asked to be taken to the palace. And you, having only met them because you didn’t want to have to meet the not-monster coming to the palace today.

This is the human.

It’s not that you faint, exactly, it’s just that—

No, you faint, you definitely faint. But in a cool way, worthy of a future king.

(You hope.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the end, you get your wish. Because you’re unconscious, you don’t have to attend the formal introductions when the human is presented to the royal family.

(You guess they’re unnecessary for you now, seeing as how you already sort of know them.)

Your father calls you into his study when you’re awake. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to be very angry about your running off, being more concerned about the fainting. Once he’s reassured about your condition, he begins to fill you in on the human.

They’re called Chara, apparently. It’s how they introduced themselves, despite your parents having been told a different name. They referred to it as their ‘true name’, and monsters are no strangers to true names, so everyone accepted it easily enough.

 _Chara,_ you think, privately repeating it to yourself. _Chara. Chara._ It’s strange to have something to call them other than The Stranger. But it suits them, somehow.

Was it odd that you had accompanied them all the way up the mountain without ever once exchanging names? Did _they_ know _your_ name now?

“Your mother is seeing to them at the moment, otherwise she’d be here as well,” your father says. “It seems they had quite a difficult journey. They had some injuries that needed tending to.”

 _I knew it,_ you think, feeling a bit more smug than was probably charitable.

“They expressed a great deal of gratitude towards the prince, by the way,” he comments mildly, sipping his tea. “Apparently he came to their aid quite heroically.”

You sink into your chair. You can almost picture the exact expression they would have worn when saying that; a cheeky smirk, easily mistaken for a genuine smile by anybody else.

“I didn’t do anything,” you say weakly. “I really didn’t.”

“Well, regardless, this bodes very well for the weeks to come,” your father answers diplomatically, setting down his teacup.

You sink even further into your chair.

“Asriel,” he says, and you look up. His eyes are gentle, and even though he’s the king, you suddenly want to burst into tears and crawl into his lap as though you were a child again.

You don’t do that. Instead, you make yourself sit up, forcing yourself to keep his gaze.

“I know that this is difficult for you, my son,” he says. His voice is impossibly soothing, and despite yourself, you can feel your terror beginning to subside. “It is with the deepest regret that your mother and I have asked you to see it through to the very end.”

“This is my duty,” you recite. “There’s no need to apologize for asking me to fulfill my obligations.”

Responsibility requires sacrifice. That’s the most important lesson that you’ve learned in all your studies. Being a king means being willing to give up your happiness and comfort for the sake of others. Being a prince means getting used to that fact until the day finally comes where you need to put it into practice.

If a marriage is demanded to cement the alliance, then you will do it gladly. It’s for your people. It’s for peace.

The smile your father gives you is a pained one, but a smile nonetheless, and he dismisses you soon afterwards.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next time you see Chara is at dinner. They’re already seated when you enter the dining hall. The places beside them are conspicuously empty. Someone had the foresight to remove the empty chairs, but it’s still painfully obvious that they’re alone.

You can’t help wondering why that is. The human had been expected to come with a full retinue, or to at least have their family with them, if not their servants. Why were they alone?

Before, you’d pictured humans as being fearsome, hardy creatures, yet Chara had seemed so... _delicate_ when you’d first seen them. That was likely why it hadn’t even occurred to you that they could be human. They’d been hurt, after all, and they were so slight, so _soft._ Nothing like the horrors that had haunted your dreams as a child. They’d since proven to be startlingly sharp-tongued and wilful, meaning that you couldn’t exactly refer to them as ‘delicate’ anymore, but it was obvious that they shouldn’t have been made to travel alone. So why had they been unaccompanied?

The torn green dress from before is gone. Instead they’re wearing a violet robe with loose white trousers underneath. You suppose your mother gave them clothes when treating their injuries: they had nothing with them, after all.

Another surprise. Who sends a royal to another kingdom with nothing but the clothes on their back? Your parents may be more than willing to accommodate them, but it’s unusual, to say the least. Thank goodness monsters are so understanding.

Dinner is painfully awkward. Not for your parents, and not even for Chara, who seems to be having an absolutely delightful time, but for _you._ Your parents are as casual and embarrassingly affectionate as always, and Chara holds themself with dignity and poise, smiling beatifically at your mother and father and politely answering every question directed at them, but you yourself can say nothing. You can barely eat, instead picking at your food and hoping nobody will notice how uncomfortable you feel.  

More than once, you try to steal a glance at Chara, thinking that if you can somehow burn their image into your mind, you’ll get used to their sudden presence in your life. But every time you look at them, they immediately return your gaze, and you end up staring at your plate for the rest of the meal, praying for the ground to swallow you whole.

When the meal is over, you prepare to slip away as quickly as possible. But before you can, Chara says, “Excuse me, my prince, but I wonder if it would be possible for you to accompany me to my room?”

 _My prince_. Your heart explodes in your chest.

Well, not really, but it feels as though it does.

“Of course,” you say, even though you want to scream.

It’s only when you leave the dining hall that you realize you have no idea where they’re staying, meaning that you can’t actually take them anywhere. But it turns out not to matter, as Chara stops in their tracks immediately after exiting the room, whirling around to glower at you with their hands planted on their hips.

"You seem to be somewhat intelligent," they say. The sweetness from before is gone, leaving only ice. "Because of that, I trust you will obey my conditions."

"Conditions?" you repeat.

"My name is _Chara_ ," they say. Their voice is clipped, as though reciting a many-times-practiced list. "You will not call me anything else. Furthermore, I am not a _princess,_ regardless of what anyone might tell you. You will not touch me. You will not kiss me. This is purely a political arrangement that I am willing to endure for the sake of never having to live among other human beings ever again. Should you ever disrespect me, I will disappear, the treaty will collapse, and both of our countries will become engulfed in war. Understand?"

"Um. Yes," you say.

Finally, Chara smiles. For the first time since you’ve met them, it seems genuine.

"Then let's be friends," they say.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It turns out that friendship with Chara mostly consists of being at their beck and call at all hours of the day. It’s surreal. As the prince, you’ve never had somebody order you around so confidently before, other than your parents, but Chara doesn’t seem to hesitate even slightly before commanding you to accompany them one place or another.

As their friend, it’s apparently your duty to provide them with a tour of the palace. You do so, despite how tense you still become whenever you’re alone with them, mostly because of how happy your parents seem when you spend time with Chara. It appears to comfort them, watching you lead Chara through your home of your own free will, and you’re willing to suppress your lingering anxiety for the sake of reassuring them. You know they’ve long been troubled by your betrothal, perhaps even moreso than you’ve been, and you love them both enough to want to ease their guilt by any means necessary.

Much to your surprise, Chara seems genuinely enthusiastic about the tour. They’re especially delighted by the library and conservatory, but they also want to hear all about the history of the royal family, asking endless questions about the portraits and tapestries that line the hallways. You tell them everything you can, grateful that so much of your education had been dedicated to history.

When you’ve shown them everything there is to see within the palace, they demand to be taken outside, where they fall in love with the gardens immediately. Literally. When you show them the roses, they bury their face in the bush, mindless of the thorns, and say, “I’m in love with these flowers.”

It’s...it’s not _cute,_ exactly—cute doesn’t seem to be quite the right word for Chara—but it’s certainly endearing, to an extent. It doesn’t really fit the image of the dust-hungry demon you’d been expecting, is all.

When they learn that you’re permitted to leave the palace unaccompanied, they demand to be taken into City next. This time, you comply eagerly without just making a show of it. As much as you love your home, it can occasionally feel stifling, being cooped up inside with politics all day.

Outside the palace, you’re met with bows and curtsies and followed everywhere by whispers and meaningful glances. You’re used to it, returning the attention with a smile and a wave when not ignoring it completely. You expect Chara to be used to it as well, given their own status and how confident they’d seemed on their arrival, but as you take them through the market, they begin to cling to your arm more and more, as though trying to disappear in you.

When you notice their odd behaviour, you don’t say anything, not wanting to embarrass them. Instead you lead them to a bench in a relatively quiet area so that they can rest.

“Do you need water?” you ask, noticing how pale they are.

“I’m fine,” Chara replies tersely. Their hands are folded neatly in their lap, expression peaceful, but their posture is so rigid that it’s obvious they aren’t fine.

You stand, thinking to get them something after all, but their hand shoots out and they grab you by the sleeve.

“Don’t go,” they say. “Stay with me.”

You sit back down.

For a moment, they are silent. They breathe steadily; in, out, in, out, a slow and purposeful rhythm.

At last they say, “It’s not that I actually want you to stay with me or anything. You’re just the only person here I know.”

“I understand,” you say. You don’t, not in the slightest, and you suspect they know that, but they seem comforted regardless.

They thread their fingers together, knuckles turning white from how tightly they do so. For a split second, you imagine taking their hand yourself. Would they hold on to you as tightly?

“I can’t believe you’re allowed to go about like this,” Chara murmurs. “You’re fortunate to have such freedom. I was not permitted the same.”

“That’s surprising,” you say without thinking. “You don’t strike me as the type to allow anyone to not permit you things.”

As soon as your own words catch up with you, your heart almost stops. But before you can apologize for your rudeness, Chara snorts.

“I don’t, do I?” they say, sounding amused. They unfold their hands, lifting one to brush a stray lock of hair from their eyes. “But my childhood was very sheltered. I was rarely permitted to leave my home. I dreamt of escape, but...I’m not used to being around this many people. I was not expecting it to be this difficult.”

“Don’t worry,” you say. “As long as I’m with you, nothing bad will happen to you.”

Chara doesn’t reply. Their face is pink now, despite how pale they’d been before.

"How do you do that?" you ask, curious.

"Do what?"

"Turn pink. Do all humans do that?”

Their hand flies to their cheek. Their face turns even pinker, and they scowl.  

"It means I'm hungry," Chara answers stiffly. "Get me something to eat.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Once Chara finally declares themself accustomed to their new home, it’s decided that the wedding should take place as soon as possible, so as to bring an end to the seemingly endless negotiation process.

‘As soon as possible’ turns out to mean a month, and you end up wasting an entire morning hiding in your bedroom until Chara barges in and tears away the quilt you’re buried under.

“Don’t be such a _coward,”_ they snarl. “You’ve known your entire life that this was going to happen. How can you possibly not be ready yet? _I’m_ ready, and _I_ only found out a few _months_ ago.”

“I’m not a _coward!”_ you cry, trying to glare at them from your bed.

You had thought that Chara’s teasing attitude towards you was a little overly-familiar before, but that was nothing compared to just how willing to lecture you they are. You know it’s shameful for someone of your station to fall apart so easily in front of them, particularly because you’ve only known each other a few days—not _nearly_ long enough for either one of you to be this comfortable around each other, you think, bewildered—but it’s hard not to when they express their disappointment with you so openly. Seeing that expression of disgust on their face feels infinitely worse than being the recipient of even the most severe scolding from your mother.

Worst of all, you know they’re right. You absolutely _are_ a coward, the biggest coward in the entire kingdom. You insist you’ll do your duty to anybody listening, and you try so, _so_ hard to keep up the appearance of being a proper prince, but even now, the thought of marrying someone you only met a few days ago leaves you shaking.

“Well, you’re doing a good impression of one _,_ ” Chara retorts coldly, throwing your blanket onto the floor in a heap.

You sniff. But then, something they said catches up with you.

“Did you say a few _months_ ago?” you ask, distress forgotten in favour of surprise. “Were you not…”

“No, I wasn’t,” Chara interrupts. Their voice is even icier than before. “No one told me until recently, but I still came, and I don’t appreciate being repaid by having the prince I came to wed _crying_ at the thought of marrying me.”

“I’m not _crying!”_ you insist. (You are, you absolutely are, but they don’t need to rub it in your face like that, geez.)

“Do you really think I’m so awful?” Chara demands. Their expression is darkening more and more by the second. “I’m _trying_ to be genuine friends with you. I’ve even gone out of my way to make nice with the king and queen. What exactly is the problem? What am I still doing wrong?

Although they’re glaring at you, their eyes are shining.

 _Tears,_ you realize, and you sit up, horrified.

Despite how their eyes are brimming, they still glare at you unflinchingly, hands curled into fists at their sides. In their gaze, you feel incredibly small.

“I’m sorry, Chara,” you say weakly. “It’s not your fault, it’s _mine_. I’m a horrible prince. I’m...scared, is all. You haven’t done anything wrong, I swear."

And Chara bursts out laughing.

“You think _I’m_ not frightened?” they gasp when they finally catch their breath. “Where I come from, humans say that monsters like to _eat_ people. I came here ready for an ogre.”

“I think I was expecting something similar,” you admit, gaze flickering to the floor in shame. “I’d never seen a human before. I...I thought you’d be a whole lot scarier.”

Still, maybe it hadn’t been your fears of humanity itself that had worried you. Maybe it had been the knowledge that the time had finally come for you to prove yourself. You may not be king yet, but you _are_ of age now: you can’t hide behind your parents anymore. This marriage will merely be the first step towards actively bettering your kingdom.

Such pressure, all for something you can still barely comprehend.

“You got the raw end of the deal, it seems,” Chara says with a weak grin. “You’re stuck with the worst human of all. Meanwhile, _I_ get.. _.this._ ”

They gesture at you helplessly.

“This?” you repeat, confused, and their face turns the brightest pink you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t pretend that you don’t know,” they mumble, looking away.

“I really don’t.”

They fold their arms.

“You may be a coward, or at the very least a crybaby, but I wouldn’t exactly call you a horrible prince,” they say at last, sounding petulant. “In fact, you’re...quite nice. In my opinion.”

You swallow, suddenly embarrassed, and look away as well.

An awkward silence falls over the two of you.

“Y-you might think otherwise,” you say when you find your voice. “But...I doubt that you’re the worst human of all. You’re probably the best I know, actually.”

Chara chuckles at that, and soon enough, you find yourself smiling as well. The awkwardness disappears, and then they’re grabbing your hand, tugging you up and out of the room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

That evening, you slip out of the palace. For the first time in what feels like forever, you do so unaccompanied by Chara.

When you return, they immediately corner you. “Where _were_ you?” they ask with a scowl. “Do you have any idea how bored I’ve been?”

Their scowl vanishes when you give them the necklace: a heart on a thin gold chain. A bit cliche, maybe, but considering your situation, it seemed appropriate. Or at least something they’d be amused by.

“An apology,” you say, more shyly than you’d like. Nothing to be shy about, you remind yourself. It’s a token of your newfound friendship, that’s all. “I’m sorry that I made you feel unwanted.”

Their fist closes around the locket. Their mouth falls open, then immediately snaps shut again.

Without a word, Chara whirls around, fleeing down the corridor. You don’t follow them, even though you’re tempted to, just like you were the day you met them.

The next time you see them, they’re wearing the necklace as their only adornment, and you feel a flush of something like pride.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The coming nuptials means the entire palace has been stirred into a frenzy of activity, leaving it in a state of barely managed chaos.

For the first time since Chara’s arrival, you somehow manage to pass an entire day without seeing them even once. The fact that they arrived with absolutely nothing means that it’s necessary to take the time to outfit them with appropriate attire for the wedding, and so one day, they wind up being holed up with the royal tailor somewhere, with you being given the strictest orders not to disturb them.

That the order is even considered necessary is surprising. Chara frequently grows bored and comes to you for entertainment, but you hadn’t realized that you’d come to depend on _them_ for company as well.

Growing up, the only company you’d ever had who hadn’t treated you with reverence had been your parents. To be with someone your own age who so obviously considers you an equal is refreshing, and to be apart from them is more lonely than you’d care to admit.

Chara can be rude and bossy at times, but outside of marrying a merciless human savage, your worst fear had been marrying someone boring. They may be a lot of things, but they’re certainly not boring, and suddenly, your life seems a whole lot duller without them by your side.

Fortunately, they appear to feel similarly. When they finally escape their fittings late that afternoon, they come bursting into your room and say,“We have to go on an adventure now!”

“Where to?” you ask. Maybe you should feel troubled that you’re already used to catering to their whims—how does that bode for your future together?—but you’re too relieved by their return to care.

“Anywhere. Take me to your favourite place. I need to stretch my legs.”

Your favourite place, you think. As you contemplate, the image of a field of golden flowers springs into your mind.

“Do you mind a bit of a walk?” you ask.

“You can carry me if I get tired,” Chara cheekily replies. “Or is that offer only for strangers you’ve just met?”

You almost choke.

It _is_ a bit of a walk, but the meadow is mostly downhill from the palace, so getting there is little trouble. This time, Chara refuses to let you go too far ahead without them, clinging to your arm so as to keep you by their side while they chatter endlessly about how painfully dull the preparations so far have been.

You try not to think too much about the way it feels to have their small, soft body pressing against yours.

When you reach the meadow, they drop your arm and run out into the sea of flowers, leaving you standing on the edge of the field.

“Is this really your favourite place?” they call out from the gold. “Or did you just bring me here out of sentimentality?"

“It really is my favourite place,” you confirm. “It’s quiet here, and I like being among the flowers. Besides, it’s perfect for stargazing at night.”

They seem to perk up slightly at the mention of stars. They don’t say anything else, however, prompting you to ask, “Do you like stargazing?”

Chara remains silent. Then, in a falsely bright tone, they say, “I think so. I’ve always liked _reading_ about stars, anyway. I’m sure I’d enjoy looking at them.”

It’s a strange thing to say, even for them. But they don’t seem inclined to elaborate and you’re not sure if you should push it any further.

You still don’t know very much about Chara at all, you realize unhappily as you watch them pick flowers. You’re more familiar with their personality now—their playfulness, their temper—and you’ve already reached a point where their presence feels more natural than their absence, but you know next to nothing about the life they led before.

Once again, you find yourself recalling the day you met them.  Alone, unaccompanied, no possessions. Suddenly, the curiosity is too much for you to bear.

“Chara,” you say, walking out into the field to join them. “You said that you were sheltered before, but...why were you alone the day we met? What happened to your escort?”

Chara grows still, and you halt your approach.

Slowly, they turn around to face you, wearing a flat smile. They clutch the flowers before them like a bouquet.

"It seems you’ve misunderstood something,” they say, voice dull despite their smile. “I wasn’t sheltered because they wanted to protect me. I was sheltered because they thought I was an embarrassment.”

Your blood goes cold.

“They didn’t care what happened to me,” Chara continues, smile widening. They open their hands, letting the yellow flowers fall. “They didn’t want me going out in public and bringing shame upon the family, so I was kept locked up. I’ve rarely been outside. That is why I envy you, prince. You’ve never known anything but freedom. For you, this arrangement is a restriction of that freedom. But for me, it’s the only chance I’ll ever have to gain it.”

They smile at you. Their smile is warped, and you know them well enough by now to recognize it for the mask it is.

Even so, as you watch them resume picking flowers, you feel the sudden, wild urge to kiss it.

You don’t. But for some reason, the desire doesn’t go away.

That night, you dream of yellow flowers falling from Chara’s thin, white hands.

 

 

* * *

 

  

It’s only later that you realize they didn’t answer your question.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As the preparations continue, you see Chara less and less. Or maybe it’s not that you see them less, but that you want to see them more.

You still manage to catch the occasional glimpse of them. They’re always there at dinner, for example, and though you’re too shy to talk freely with them when your mother and father are listening, their presence is a comfort.

But it’s not enough.

So much of your time now is occupied by helping with the wedding arrangements, and you hate every last florist and musician that you meet with for keeping you away from Chara. You want to keep getting to know them. You want to know everything _about_ them. They had enjoyed the gardens; do they want to have their own someday? They often go to the library in the evenings; what do they like to read?

There’s one day where you catch sight of them down the hall when you’re on your way to see your mother about something. You almost call out to them, but there’s something urgent in their step and you realize that they must be going somewhere. You let them go, but you fume quietly about it for the rest of the day, relaxing only at the evening meal when you see Chara once again sitting across from you.

At one point, you catch yourself thinking that you’ll have plenty of time to get to know them after the wedding and you almost burst out laughing. Thankfully, you manage to keep quiet. You’re not sure how you would have explained what was so funny.

Yet as comical as it can be at times, the intensity of your desire to learn more about Chara in what little time you have can be almost frightening at others. You feel as though you’re starving, with every scrap of information Chara feeds you about themself amounting to little more than crumbs.

You can’t help wondering when this hunger even began. Was it when you first met them, or had it always been laying dormant in you?

Over and over again, your mind returns to the image of yellow flowers falling from their hands. _I was kept locked up,_ they’d said. But why? Who had done that to them, and how dare they, when Chara was so obviously meant to be free?

And it occurs to you that maybe _that_ ’s the reason. If you just knew why, then maybe you could undo it. If you could get know them, then maybe you could help them.

But what exactly would you do? You may be a prince, but in the end, you have no power. Only endless duties and responsibilities.

You wonder if caring for them would be enough. You’re sure they didn’t come here expecting to find love, and you don’t know if whatever feelings you now have for them would qualify—you’re fond of them, of course, but to call a few weeks of fondness a romance seems ridiculous.

Still, you _are_ fond of them, more than you can say, and the desire to protect them is at times overwhelming.

You had once told Chara that nothing bad would happen to them if they were with you. You know now that you’d give almost anything to keep that promise.

But. Did _they_ want that?

As their husband, you’d have all the time in the world to spend with them, and they with you. You could shower them with tenderness. You could give them everything that had ever been kept from them. You could keep them safe. But a flower pressed between the pages of a book for preservation will not grow; it will only dry out and eventually crumble away, leaving nothing beautiful behind.

Every moment Chara isn’t in your sight, you think of that strange, broken smile of theirs. It’s not right, that they never learned to smile properly. It’s not right, that someone so like a bird, so desperate to spread their wings, should have spent so much of their life being caged.

It’s not right that you’ll be the one to cage them next.

 _But for me, it’s the only chance I’ll ever have to gain it,_ they had said.

Not true, you think with a swell of something like determination in your chest. You can do better. You may be a coward, but Chara makes you actually want to be strong. Not just because it’s expected of you, but because you finally have something you want to protect. Not a concept, not some unattainable ideal, but something solid, something _real._ Something worth sacrificing for.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next night at dinner, you don’t even bother trying to disguise the way you stare at Chara. It’s embarrassing, to be so blatant about it, but you already can’t imagine them not living with you. You want to keep the memory of them sitting across from you forever.

Oddly, they don’t seem discomfited by your staring even slightly, returning your gaze without hesitation.

More than once, you catch your parents exchanging knowing looks from down the table. You’re sure they think they’re being subtle.

The food tastes like ash.

Once the meal is over, you turn to Chara and say, “Let me accompany you to your room.”

They raise their eyebrows. In the weeks since their arrival, that phrase has essentially become a code for _there’s something we need to talk about in private._ There are some things you can’t easily discuss with your parents listening, after all, especially with Chara trying so hard to stay in their favour.

“Is something wrong?” they ask the moment you step out into the corridor together.

“Not here,” you say as a servant carrying a tray passes behind you. “Somewhere private.”

You take Chara’s hand and begin to lead them down the hallway. Belatedly, you remember that they once told you not to touch them. You glance back to measure their reaction, but they seem more confused than angry, and when you try to reclaim your hand, their fingers only tighten.

They’re still wearing the locket, you realize. It’s hidden beneath their shirt, but you can see the pucker of the fabric and the chain hanging around their slim neck. You feel an inexplicable surge of something like possessiveness and immediately chastise yourself for it. You’ve known them half a month at most: you have no right to think of them like this.

Chara’s eyes meet yours and their face turns pink.

“Are you hungry again already?” you ask, startled. “Didn’t you eat anything?”

“Huh?”

Chara stares at you as though you have lobsters crawling from your ears.

“Your face is pink,” you point out.  

“Oh! Um, no. This is...thirst,” they quickly reply. “I didn’t get enough to drink. That’s all.”

Then, voice cracking slightly: “We’re not _actually_ going to my room, are we?”

“Your room is closer than mine,” you explain. “Where else can we talk privately?”

They bite their lip, offering no further protests.

When you enter their bedroom, you take a moment to let your gaze flicker about. They come to your room often, usually to drag you out of bed or demand that you do something for them, but you’ve never seen their own quarters.

The room is sparse. It’s little more than a guest chamber, completely undecorated outside of the bare necessities.

When they’re gone, there will be no proof that they had ever been here. Even now, there’s little proof that they exist.

You shut the door and lean against it, breathing heavily, lungs like bellows. Chara stands awkwardly apart from you, arms folded across their chest. They wear a suspicious frown, but it suits them, it really does. You’d never thought that you’d prefer a frown to a smile, but on Chara, it seems natural.

You hope that you don’t cry.

“This isn’t fair to you,” you say at last, and Chara blinks.

“What isn’t?” they ask.

“This whole arrangement. It isn’t _fair_. I have a better idea of what kind of person you are now, even though we haven’t known each other very long, and I...I don’t think you’re meant for something like this.”

You’re meant to be an adult. You’re meant to be a noble. But here alone with Chara, you’re reduced to a trembling child, nervously tugging at the hem of your shirt as you try with all your might to do the right thing, despite desperately not wanting to.

“I don’t understand,” Chara says. Their voice is low.

“I won’t bind you to this,” you continue, trying to smile. It’s a watery smile, but you hope that they’ll appreciate the effort. “I know the wedding’s not far off, b-but...you don’t have to go through with it. I know that you don’t want to return home, but that’s okay. I’ll find somewhere for you to go. W-we can offer you protection, even if you and I don’t actually get m-married.”

You have no idea if what you’re saying is true. You _want_ it to be, more than anything else, and if your parents won’t cooperate, then you’ll just help Chara escape yourself. But if you don’t marry them, what will happen? Will the human royals be offended? Will they send someone else, or will the treaty collapse entirely?

It doesn’t matter, something rebellious in you decides. You don’t care. _You don’t care._ All you care about is not holding Chara prisoner, and that’s what they _are_ right now, a prisoner, and you...you don’t want...

“I’m sorry,” Chara whispers.

When you look up, they’ve gone very, very pale.

Their eyes— _they really are_ _beautiful_ , you think almost desperately—are swimming with tears.

“I’m sorry,” they repeat, tears rolling down their cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’ve done this all wrong, haven’t I? I made a mistake somewhere. A terrible one.”

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “No, it’s not _that,_ you—”

“And you’re being _nice!_ ” they interrupt. “Even now, you’re being so stupidly, idiotically _nice,_ nicer than I deserve, when I...I must have done something awful, right? Otherwise...but no, I don’t have to _do_ awful things to cause ruin, I just _am_ awful!”

And somehow, they begin to laugh and cry at the exact same time, falling apart entirely as you watch helplessly.

“Chara,” you say. You hesitantly reach out to them, unsure if taking them into your arms would make things worse or not. (But you want to. You want to. You want to.) “Chara, no, that’s not…”

 _“Please_ don’t send me away!” they sob, and then they fall against you, clutching desperately at your shirt. “Please, I’m begging you, don’t make me go...I know I’m awful, but this is all I _have,_ I’ll try harder, I swear, I’ll do _anything…”_

Without meaning to, your arms wind around Chara, pressing them against your chest as they weep.

They’re shaking, you realize.

Gradually, their sobs begin to subside. The trembling stops as well, but they still cling to you, and...well, if they don’t mind you holding them after all, then you’re not inclined to let go.

It’s only when they’re finally still again that you dare to speak.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” you whisper. Your hand is cradling the back of their head, fingers buried in their auburn hair, and you think you might want to stroke it, but that would be too much, wouldn’t it? “I just don’t want to force you. I want you to have a proper choice. I don’t want to send you away, I swear.”

“You really _are_ an idiot,” Chara says, voice muffled by your chest. “Anybody else would have that long ago.”

“I’m just an idiot, then.”

They pull away, and you reluctantly let them go.

Chara wipes their eyes, and with a heavy sigh, they move to sit on their bed.

“I suppose I owe you an explanation,” they say.

 _An explanation for what?_ you think, but before you can ask them what they mean, Chara gives you a meaningful look and you quickly join them. The mattress dips as you sit down, causing them to fall against you.

"Do you know why I'm here?" they ask, voice dull.

“To finalize the union of our kingdoms through marriage,” you recite.

“Precisely,” Chara confirms with a slight nod. “But I’m not exactly an ideal candidate, am I? I have no experience with politics. Furthermore, I can barely stand to be around my own kind, so it’s not as though I can serve as an ambassador. I’m completely useless.”

“That’s not true.”

“It _is._ And.. _._ do you remember what I said before, about being considered an embarrassment?”

“Yes,” you say. “I do.”

Just the memory alone is enough to light a fire in your chest, but then Chara rests their head against your shoulder, and you briefly contemplate the possibility that they’re doing it on purpose, not simply failing to resist the dip you make in the mattress.

They take a deep breath, then slowly exhale. One, two, three.

They reach for your hand, entwining their fingers with yours, squeezing so tightly that you almost cannot breathe.

“I’m an embarrassment because I tried to kill myself,” they say.

They say it so nonchalantly that at first you think you must have misunderstood.

“This is good, isn’t it? A marriage should begin with honesty,” Chara adds, sounding amused. You can barely hear them speak over the pounding of your heart. “But yes. I tried to kill myself. You don’t need to know exactly how or why, just that the attempt was made. I’ve always been moody, you see. Prone to episodes and fits of temper. My parents were ashamed. They said it was like I was possessed by a demon. Then, after my failed suicide, they decided that they couldn’t take the scandal anymore and had me locked away.”

You imagine tearing these humans you have never met before apart limb from limb, dust scattering everywhere.

Chara gives a bark of hysterical laughter, tightening their grip on your hand. This time, you squeeze back just as tightly.

“Having me sent as a marriage candidate would be considered an insult by anybody else,” they say. “Funny, isn’t it?”

“No,” you answer curtly.

“We have different senses of humour, I suppose,” Chara concedes. “But we’re not even at the punchline yet.”

They’re shaking again, you realize.

You slip an arm around their shoulders, hoping that they’ll see it for what it is: an attempt at comfort, at support. Not restriction.

They lean into you.

You almost don’t want to ask, but you need to know.

“Tell me the punchline,” you say, and Chara’s face breaks out into a smile.

“I was expendable,” they say.

Your arms tighten around their shoulders despite yourself.

“I was expendable, so they chose me,” they continue. Silent tears are once again trailing down their face. “I didn’t know, of course. I wouldn’t have gone with them if I had. But my escort didn’t just abandon me. They tried to murder me. My body was going to be found on monster territory so that they could instigate a war. They chose me because it didn’t matter if I died. I’d already tried to once, after all.”

Their expression is pained, and you...you want to hold them, keep them safe, cradle them in your arms, never let anybody else touch them ever again. You want...

“But if I die, I want to do so on my own terms,” Chara says, voice still soft. “So when I woke up that night to find one of them holding a knife over me, I ran, and I decided to make the rest of the journey on foot if I had to. And _that’s_ why I was alone on the mountain.”

Anger. White hot anger, like a clap of lightning, blinding you.

“Who were they?” you ask when you can see again, voice flat.

“Asriel, no.”

“Who were they?” you repeat. “When I find them, I’ll—”

 _“No._ I’m not giving them what they want,” Chara snaps. Their nails dig into your palm. “They wanted a war, so they’re not getting one, not if they were going to use me. I made it here despite them, and I’m _going_ to see the treaty finalized, and I’m _going_ to be the best damn spouse and sovereign you and monsterkind alike could ever hope for. If you lose your temper and lash out, then what was it all for?”

“Is that why you didn’t tell anyone?” you ask.

“Obviously. And I won’t let _you_ tell anybody, either.”

Chara lifts a hand and begins to stroke one of your ears. The motion is a soothing one, and slowly, slowly, your anger melts away.

Still…

“This isn’t something you can hide forever, Chara.”

“I don’t intend to,” they reply. “I want them all to pay. But first, I need to wait. They wanted any chance of a permanent alliance between humans and monsters to collapse, so I’m going to cement it before I seek them out. The treaty’s not a _complete_ sham, after all, and I don’t want to jeopardize it. I trust that the sentiment behind it is sincere, for the most part. It’s only my worthless, bigoted family and their ilk that felt the need to sabotage it.”

Their smile turns sharp.

“I have a friend,” Chara says, still stroking your ears. “I met them when we were children, before I was confined. They’re helping me keep this whole thing quiet on the human end. You’d be surprised by what they can accomplish when they put their mind to it. They can be very...persuasive.”

You try not to shudder.

“But why did you tell _me?”_ you ask.

“You deserve to know,” they answer simply. “It’s why I’m so determined to see this whole mess through. I’m petty and selfish and want to prevent a war entirely out of spite. This is who you’re marrying, prince.”

They still speak as though they’re going to marry you, you realize. You offered to help them find a way out, and this is their refusal.

"Thank you,” you say.

Chara pauses in their stroking, and you lift a hand to their face, cupping their cheek.

Even in the dim evening light of their bedroom, you can see how pink they’ve suddenly become.

They told you once that one of their conditions for marrying you is that you don’t kiss them. You don’t want to break their rules, not even now, when kissing them is all you that can think about.

But then Chara is the one to close the space between you, hooking an arm around your neck and crushing their lips against yours, and you decide that you’ve probably found a loophole.

 

 

* * *

 

 

That night, for the first night since you and Chara met, the two of you sleep in the same bed.

Sometime long past midnight, you find yourself awake. Chara lays within the circle of your arms, so still that you might wonder if they were even breathing could you not feel the slight rise and fall of their chest against yours.

You lift a hand to their face, running a finger down their cheek, and their eyelids flutter open.

“Chara,” you say. You keep your voice soft due to the late hour. “I know this might be a bit late...or early, maybe? We’ve only known each other a few weeks now, after all—”

“Out with it,” they mumble.

“Sorry,” you whisper, and you reach for the hands they have folded between you, lifting one and pressing your mouth to their knuckles. Soft, soft. “But I wanted to ask properly...will you marry me?”

A funny look crosses their face, and with an odd little smile, they say, “Of course I will. Why, I think I’ve been ready to do that since the day we met.”

That catches you off guard. “Really?”

“Yes,” they say, sounding almost wistful. “When you saw me for the first time, you…”

They pause and you remain silent. You’ll let them take as long as they need.

“You asked if I was alright,” they say at last. “I don’t think anybody’s ever done that before.”

Your heart aches.

“This is ridiculous,” you say weakly, pressing your palm against your face. “I...I like you, I really do, but me having shown you basic courtesy _once_ shouldn’t be what convinces you to do this.”

“You say you like me,” Chara answers. “I like you as well. There’s no reason to think that either one of us will stop any time soon. I’d say that liking each other and not wanting a war are two very convincing arguments in favour of marriage.”

Their words are painfully practical, but as they speak, they stroke your face with the hand you kissed.

“And...and this is unbearably sentimental of me, so you can’t tell anyone I said this. If you do, I will deny it,” they add. “But I...somehow feel as though I’ve known you all my life.”

Again, your heart aches, but this time, it’s the most beautiful ache you’ve ever felt.

“I feel the same way,” you whisper.

They lean in and press a kiss against your chin, then say, “When this is over, I want to get to know you and your family properly.”

“We went about this whole thing backwards,” you say, chuckling weakly. “But I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ll do my best to make marrying me worthwhile.”

“What, do you intend to woo me after we’re wed?”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” you say, more bashfully than you’d care to admit. _Woo_ is such an embarrassing word. “But I want to try and do this right. Or as right as I can at this point, anyway.”

Chara appears to contemplate this for a moment. Then, they abruptly sling an arm and leg around you, hugging you like an enormous pillow. You squeak in surprise.

“Don’t think you’ll be the only one, prince,” they say, voice muffled by fur. “I’ll show you just how charming I can be when I feel so inclined. You’ll see how lucky you are to have been sent the expendable child.”

“I already find you very charming,” you say honestly, and Chara bites you.

The night passes quietly after that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A desire to protect. A desire for revenge. Duty and hatred, hand in hand. You can’t say for sure if this is love or not, but in the end, does it really even matter?

Maybe it’s the best either one of you can hope for, given your circumstances.

Love or not, you know this: you want to kiss Chara as many times as they allow.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Monster weddings are based around a ritual blending of magic: a spectacle intended to display the beauty of the love shared between the parties involved, or to at least demonstrate their ability to cooperate in the case of arranged matches. But the involvement of a human incapable of using magic this time around means finding a compromise, and so the ceremony arranged for you and Chara winds up being largely based upon human tradition.

Human weddings are simple affairs, apparently.

“All that’s really needed is an exchange of vows and rings,” Chara had explained. “I think so, anyway. I’ve never seen one personally.”

An exchange of vows. A pair of rings. It was easy enough to integrate into a more traditional ceremony, and you admittedly like the idea of the rings, particularly the thought of Chara wearing something of yours and of you wearing something of theirs in return.

Time seems to fly after the night of your talk with Chara. Before, time’s habit of marching straight along despite your best efforts to bring it to a halt had terrified you. Now, you’re grateful for it. You’ve grown impatient with the preparations and rehearsals; you know that marrying Chara has never been about the two of you alone, that both kingdoms demand the wedding be a proper spectacle, but if it were up to you, you’d already have the whole thing over with.

Over and over again, you and Chara listen to instructions on how the ceremony will run. You try on your formal robes, try not to imagine Chara in theirs too often, imagine slipping your ring onto one of their dainty fingers, try not to laugh too hard when they confess their fear of not being able to fit yours onto your own.

The number of guests seem to grow every time you review the list. Most of them are that curious blend of stranger and acquaintance: people you’ve grown accustomed to from just how often you encounter them, but nobody you would truly consider a friend. Still, it’s oddly reassuring to think that even those with names you don’t know or faces you don’t recognize will be celebrating. There may be those who disapprove based on prejudice and ancient grudges, but there are even more who want you and Chara and the treaty to succeed.

The most surprising guest to arrive is a small, round, silent human who throws their arms around Chara the moment they lay eyes on them.

“This is my friend Frisk,” Chara says when introducing them to you. “I told you about them before, didn’t I? We’ve known each other since we were children. They’re an ambassador now, so of course they’d be present for an event like this.”

You attempt to shake their hand. Frisk hugs you instead. The jealousy that had flared up from watching them hug Chara immediately fades. Apparently, Frisk is just affectionate.

“You just hugged my husband-to-be,” Chara says to them. “His name is Asriel. He’s incredibly terrifying and likes to eat small children. He’s also a mad prince who intends to take over the world. I’m going to help him.”

“That’s not quite true,” you say. Frisk’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.

Around Frisk, Chara seems infinitely brighter; still teasing, still playful, but also curiously gentle, as though Frisk’s innate sweetness is contagious.

But that night, they come to you trembling and say, “Frisk was almost with me. They were delayed because of other business, but they were supposed to have gone as well. They could have been there when—”

“But they weren’t,” you say, letting kisses fall upon their hair as they cling to you. “They weren’t, and you survived.”

“Frisk is the only truly good human there is,” Chara whispers in the dark. “If they’d been there...if they’d been hurt...I’d have killed them all with my bare hands. I swear it.”

You don’t know what to say. You can only kiss them, offering what little comfort you can give, and they eventually calm down, falling asleep with their limbs entwined with yours.

And then, the day itself arrives.

You spend the majority of it pacing back and forth in your room, mind racing, stomach twisting. Despite your initial reluctance and later impatience, every minute that goes by and brings you closer to the hour of the ceremony itself sees your nerves becoming worse and worse.

You’re washed and dressed and brushed, everything required to be considered presentable for an event like this, but when your mother stops by to see how you’re doing, you practically collapse into her embrace, momentarily forgetting your age, size, and formal attire.

“I’m terrified,” you moan, and she kisses your brow.

“Everything will go well,” she reassures you, speaking in that motherly tone of voice that’s so wonderfully convincing, even when she’s saying something that cannot possibly be guaranteed.

Raising a hand to your cheek, she gives you a kind smile.

“Your father and I are so, so proud of you,” she says. “You truly are our brave son.”

You’re not, you think hysterically. You _can’t_ be.

But...you’re still _doing_ this, aren’t you? Surely that counts for something.

“Thank you,” you say at last, and she gives you a slight nod before leaving.

At last the time comes where you can only wait.

When you’re as ready as you can be, you request to be left alone so that you may collect yourself. You breathe in and out as deeply and steadily as you can, trying to steel your nerves before the time comes for the ceremony to finally begin.

You wonder if Chara is nervous as well. For the most part, they’re a master at hiding their fears, but you know their facade isn’t perfect. You hope that they have Frisk with them, to calm them down should they begin to fall apart.

And then, a knock at your door.

Startled, you go to answer it. You wonder who it could be: one of your parents, maybe?

But when you open it, you see Chara.

“C-Chara?” you stammer. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready?”

“I escaped,” they say with a mischievous smile, pushing past you and into the room. “I wanted to see you before the ceremony.”

“But why?”

“To give you something,” they reply, and they reach into their formal robes and draw something out for you to see.

A heart-shaped necklace on a thin gold chain.

You can’t speak.

A simple necklace shouldn’t leave you speechless, but you suppose you’ve rarely been able to predict Chara’s affect on you.

“Nothing that’s going to happen today will be real,” they say, and they wave their hand slightly, indicating for you to lean forward. You wordlessly obey, still too surprised to say anything.

They reach around your neck to fasten the locket for you, saying, “Even though we’ve accepted it, this marriage remains political. The rings we’ll exchange and the vows we’ll say will be meaningless as a result. They will be promises for our kingdoms, not ourselves. I want us to have something real.”

When the locket is clasped, you stand up straight once more, and Chara gives you one of their rare true smiles as they draw their own out from underneath their robes.

“You gave me this as an apology,” they say. “Maybe it didn’t seem important to you, but to me, it was a sign that you regretted causing me pain. It was a sign that you cared for my well-being, and that you respected me enough to admit it, and that made it valuable to me. I now give you its twin as a symbol of my _actual_ vows to you, as opposed to the ones I will say at the ceremony.”

“Um,” you say.

“You’ve inexplicably become one of the most important people in my life,” Chara continues, undaunted by your incredibly articulate commentary. “Although we are marrying for political reasons, I want you to know that at this point, if you were to ask me of your own free will, I would still accept. I care for you, Asriel, and I will do my best to demonstrate this in the manner you deserve, so that I may repay the kindness you have shown me.”

And then they look at you expectantly, as though the two of you are actors in a play and they’re waiting for you to say your lines.

But you failed to read the script, and so you wind up blurting out, “I think I might love you.”

Chara jolts backwards when you say that, face immediately turning red.

They stare at you in utter shock long enough that you consider asking if they’re all right.

Then they begin to giggle.

You’ve never heard Chara laugh in a way that could be described as a ‘giggle’ before.

It’s a nice sound.

“Well,” they say when they’ve regained their composure. “I suppose that will have to do. After all, I think I might love you too.”

They’re smiling, and you find yourself smiling back, and then they’re pulling you down for a kiss, long and beautiful and deep.

“I have to go,” Chara says when you break apart, voice tinged with regret. “They want to put flowers in my hair or something.”

“You’ll look beautiful,” you say, and they roll their eyes before pressing one final kiss onto your cheek.

They slip out of the door, once more leaving you alone. But you feel light; effervescent, even. You have the locket now—Chara’s heart—and you know that you will see them again soon.

When the time comes for the wedding to begin, so long as Chara is there waiting for you, you know that you’ll have nothing to fear.


End file.
